Protecting Helena

by Cordelia Gregory

  So, he’d noticed her dwindling eating habits from stress and anxiety despite all her efforts to hide it. Lord Fox never missed anything where she was concerned and now their strange psychic connection was growing stronger and it would get harder and harder to hide most things from him if they continued on this path to be together. When she’d embarked on strengthening her psychic ability through remote viewing, she had never anticipated anything like this.

  “I’m not really hungry,” she spoke quietly getting nervous about the bottle-feeding again.

  “I will be the judge of that, baby girl,” he told her leaning over to brush her forehead with a kiss. She parted her lips to retaliate then quickly thought better of it.

  Mark was now moving the sponge over the top of the chest. Her breath caught in her throat as he moved it sensually over her left breast, down and under, cupping and lifting to clean underneath, pausing to soak her nipples with bubbles, flexing the tip back and forth.

  Helena watched mesmerised when he applied the sponge to the second breast and repeated the same action. All of his movements were light, caressing and sensual, deliberately provoking her arousal. Every time Mark touched her, looked in her direction undressing her with those smouldering ice blue eyes she melted and surrendered to the electricity that danced explosively between them even when they argued. Obediently, her body would dampen and ready her for his penetration and pleasure. She was enslaved to him whether she liked it or not and he damn well knew and used it to his advantage. Her thoughts made her frown and move restlessly in the bath. She didn’t like being sexually controlled. But a small voice deep inside hissed, Liar.

  Mark was grinning at her as he began moving the sponge between her breasts down across her stomach to poise it above the small triangle underneath the water. He knew what she was thinking. She could tell by the slightly raised dark eyebrow. Helena blanked her mind immediately and his smile faded.

  “I am going to help you eat and get back on track with your health.”

  He was speaking to her in that fatherly tone once more. It made her pout in defiance.

  His grin was back. He leaned over and took hold of her chin.

  “Enough of that pouting, little one. You will do as you are told.”

  Damn it, she was already assuming the role of a child in her father’s doting care. Clearly it was a role she had always wanted to play but she had never had the opportunity nor the father growing up. Maybe this was some sort of a substitute. Before she could dwell anymore on her assertion and continue her ruminations, Mark dipped the natural sponge between her thighs to cleanse her pink vaginal lips. It travelled back and forth brushing her clit until she heard herself gasp and a small moan exit her lips unguarded. Mark was watching her with such intensity she felt her cheeks flush hot. He stepped up his movement and her body rose and fell in a bucking movement in response. She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the bath hoping he would allow her to climax, but he was to deny her pleasure. He removed the sponge to stroke it down her thigh and leg. Her eyes flew open in surprise.

  “Pleasure must be earnt, little one,” he told her firmly, seriously.

  She opened her mouth ready to offer a sharp rebuke when he placed his finger over her lips hushing her. He shook his head.

  “Enough, little one. I do not tolerate swearing. You will earn yourself a spanking over my knee if you do. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” she snapped frustrated when he removed his finger from over her lips.

  He stopped bathing her and looked at her sternly stirring something dark and feral inside her that demanded he roughly take her and satisfy it.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  She hadn’t even hesitated, hadn’t even known what he’d really expected her to call him, yet it had tripped so easily from her tongue.

  “Good girl.”

  His eyes softened and he appeared genuinely pleased. She lowered her eyes feeling bashful, childlike and allowed him to continue bathing her. When he’d finished with her feet, he issued an instruction.

  “Turn over, baby girl and get up on all fours.”

  “Why?”

  The warning look came swiftly.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  Daddy helped her turn over in the bath.

  “Bottom up and out of the water. That’s it,” he said lifting her into the desired position with his arm around her waist.

  “What are you going to do, Daddy?” she asked nervously.

  “Just bathe you of course,” he grinned. “We have to make sure we do not leave any important parts out, now don’t we?”

  She nodded feeling both awe and confusion as to how readily she was falling into the part of Daddy’s princess in their role-playing. It was an odd position to be in when in the bath. Daddy soaked the sponge in the water catching up a mountain of bubbles before stroking her back with them. They dripped off her body down over the peaks of her breasts and slid down her bottom and thighs to the water. It was the first time since he had commenced the bathing ritual that Helena had heard him betray his pleasure with a sigh. He roamed the length of her body with his eyes full of lust.

  “It is like soaping down a beautiful thoroughbred mare,” he mused out loud.

  She knew he loved his horses and of his exploits in the stable. Briefly she wondered if she would be treated to one of his stable games in the future. She heard the soft chuckle of laughter in her mind and had no more doubts the time would come soon.

  Mark dipped the sponge into the crease of her bottom searching out the small dark puckered hole. Helena felt a little exposed. Her ex-husband had taken her anally only once and it had felt more like a rape. It made her shake her bottom as though she were indeed a mare in the stable trying to throw him off when he parted her cheeks to examine her.

  “Really, little one? Mind your behaviour or Daddy will have to discipline you.”

  “Why are you looking there?”

  “Because I can, and I wish to. Stay still while I look at you,” he coaxed in a gentle voice. “I want to see if you have been taken by a man there.”

  “I was once and it wasn’t pleasant,” she snapped.

  “He clearly wasn’t doing it right, then. I asked you to stop moving.”

  “No. I don’t want you to look at me there or touch me,” she demanded, feeling embarrassed and shaking her backside again like the mare in his stable feeling him circle his middle finger around the circle.

  “There is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about, Helena. In time, I will show you how pleasurable being mounted this way can be.”

  But Helena made the mistake of shaking her bottom from side to side forcing him to break off his inspection.

  “That is not going to go unpunished, naughty girl,” he said dropping the sponge in the water and standing up. “Stay where you are.”

  She watched him dry his hands on one of the white fluffy towels and go to the cupboard on the far wall. Her eyes flew open wide when she saw what he took out. He settled on his haunches next to her face just so she could get a better look at the black leather riding crop he now held in his hand. He ran his other hand along its length.

  “I haven’t disciplined a woman with a riding crop in the bath for a long time,” he said seductively admiring the crop, running his hand the length of it once more, turning it over and bringing the leather end closer to his face to examine it. “I love using the crop. I find it very effective in getting the message across,” he informed Helena caressing the whip one more time. Helena found herself staring at it. He was going to whip her wet bare bottom. Her lip trembled as she tried to figure out how much it would hurt and how hard she would wail when he did it. She had no doubt they would probably hear her downstairs and out through the grounds.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” she said lowering her eyes to the bath. “Next time, I will be still.”

  Mark came to stand in front of her. He tucked the flexible soft leather end of the riding crop
underneath her chin and raised her face up towards him, making her strain to achieve the position.

  “You will come to welcome my discipline, my little princess and use it as a gauge for your behaviour.”

  Lord Fox stood tall and dominant over her raising the crop to run it lengthways over her pouting cherry-red lips.

  “I will not tolerate your wilfulness anymore, Helena. You have put your trust in me as your Dominant and I take your care very seriously.”

  He was moving the crop again, trailing it down over her throat towards the tantalising cleft between her wet, heavy, bubble-soaked breasts. He slid it back and forth before suddenly moving it away and whipping it across one breast with a quick flicking motion, careful to catch the dark plum tip as he did. Helena gasped, shocked to her core. She hadn’t expected for one minute he would…

  “That was a bit of a surprise for you wasn’t it, little one. As this will be.”

  He repeated the strike against the second breast while her other shook and wobbled. Her body jerked and he was doing it again. The sting was sharp accompanied by a hot cold sensation. But what she hadn’t expected was the intense shot of potent arousal it sent in a direct line to the depths of her core. But he was to surprise her even more.

  Lord Fox walked around the bath and placed the end of the riding crop underneath her stomach, the end just above the lips of her vagina. Helena held her breath.

  “Here is something else, you didn’t expect,” he said whipping the end of the crop with perfect careful precision making sure her clit did not miss the lash of the whip. Again, Helena’s body bucked, and she loudly cried out more from the shock than anything else. He continued whipping her clit appearing to enjoy the way her body wobbled and jolted in response and her breasts swayed and jostled. She wailed a little at first, but the strikes were quick and hot and the arousal she had first experienced with the discipline he inflicted to her breasts became more intense, warring with the never-ending conflict of pleasure and pain Mark was adept at provoking in her body and mind. Tears flowed in abundance along with her helpless yelps and cries yet the fire inside her was stoked higher and higher. She felt ashamed. How the hell could she be so turned on by being whipped in a bath as though she were a naughty or perhaps wicked schoolgirl?

  She thought when he finally ceased pussy whipping her it would be the end of his disciplining action, but he hadn’t even got started. As she trembled on all fours panting from relief, Mark stood tall and placed the tip of the crop at the top of her spine. He trailed the whip down her back making her skin tingle and shiver with excitement. It came to rest on top of one bare, wet bottom cheek. Mark remained silent and as Helena sensed the riding crop being raised and felt the whoosh of air as it came down towards her, she grimaced. She closed her tear and mascara stained eyes preparing for the strike.

  Helena cried the loudest when the first crack of the riding crop lashed hot and hard against her pale, wet vulnerable flesh. She was too busy crying with the second, third and others as Mark got into his stride and took her to task with the riding crop. It made her release all the heavy tension and pain she had harboured since her shooting and her father’s death.

  “That’s it, little one. I will have you tamed yet. Cry all that pain and anger out. You will feel much better when it is all over,” Mark advised, raising the crop to colour the tender backs of her thighs listening to the whoosh and slap of the crop against her fragile bottom.

  A short while later, the whip had been laid down and Mark was soothing her with his touch on her backside while he bent to shave her pussy. She was still trembling with the force of the emotion she had let go of and had to admit to herself that she felt lighter in her mind. Then she was lifted from the water to be laid down on a lovely snow-white towel lying on the floor waiting for her. For a moment, she clung to him still sobbing and he held her, kissing her hair.

  “Daddy, Daddy, don’t let me go,” she blurted out burying her face in his naked chest seeking his warmth and protection. He responded instantly smoothing his hands up and down her arms, holding her even tighter against him while she sat on his lap on the floor. He wrapped the towel around her and rocked her back and forth like a baby. To soothe her cries about the death of Lennox, her father and settle her hyperventilating, Mark slipped his thumb over her bottom lip and into her open mouth to move it back and forth in the confines of the dark wet chamber until she began to suck on it for comfort like a child’s dummy. Eventually, she became silent, sleepy and content. After a while Helena felt herself completely relax and surrender herself in to Mark’s care without hesitation loving the gentle way he held her like a babe in his arms.

  “Let me finish getting you dry and comfortable,” he announced gently laying her down on the floor in the towel. He dried her making sure each crevice and swell was patted with the towel and then spread the towel wide.

  “Lie still, baby girl.”

  Helena lay quietly and watched Mark remove a bottle of lotion from a bag. It was a strange bag. It had small baby girls on it playing with toy ducks and crawling after butterflies in nothing but a nappy. She stared confused as to why he would have such a bag. Maybe he kept the baby bottles in there. Daddy squeezed some of the lotion onto his hands and rubbed them together. She glanced at the bottle when he put it down on the floor next to them and read the label. Baby lotion.

  Mark spread the lotion over her shoulders and down, over and around her breasts tweaking her nipples as he did so while she tried to work out what was coming next. He massaged the lotion over her body making sure it was thoroughly rubbed in, lifting her legs up and holding them with one hand as he used his other to diffuse the heat on her burning buttocks with its coolness. Nothing could have prepared Helena for what came next. Lulled in to a false sense of security by his rhythmic, massaging, hand movements over her body, she didn’t notice him take the diaper out of the bag until he was pulling her legs up again and sliding it underneath her bottom.

  “What’s that? What are you doing?”

  “Putting a diaper on you, little one.”

  He covered her newly shaven pussy with the front of the diaper and secured it at the sides.

  “I can’t wear one of these. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Yes, you can, and you will. This is going to help you sleep unhindered. When you need to wee you will do so in the diaper and I will change you, baby girl.”

  Helena didn’t have the energy to get more upset or to continue to argue with him.

  “I can’t do this,” she said exhausted. “I am a grown woman.”

  “Who needs to be taken care of as a child for a while. From what I hear you weren’t allowed to be one for very long or taken care of properly. I want you to feel safe and cared for before you take on Rann again.”

  “But you are regressing me.”

  “Yes. I want to help you find that safe place inside of yourself where you can hide and recuperate for a short time. Somewhere he will not be able to reach you and I can guard you,” Mark said leaning over her, running his fingers just inside the top of the diaper to make sure it was not fastened too tightly on her body. “You gave me your trust, Helena. Let me prove to you that I can take care of you.”

  She questioned him no more knowing to constantly protest and complain would do her no good. If she was brutally honest, a large part of her secretly liked the idea of letting go of all responsibility both in the physical and emotional sense. Trusting her Daddy to tend to her every need and discipline her behaviour where warranted just like the father she’d never truly had.

  Mark folded the towel tight around her body trapping her arms within in it as though she were a newborn baby. He lifted her up in his arms and carried her back into the room.

  “I am going to take you somewhere very special,” he cooed over her as he carried her to the Tudor fireplace. “You are going to love this.” He grinned pushing a small area on the face of the fireplace in. As he did so, a panel of the wall at the side of the fireplace opened just
like a door containing a secret passage. Helena’s eyes widened in surprise. She pressed her head against his chest, and he moved inside carrying her.

  Inside the secret passage, there was a small narrow stone staircase.

  “Let me walk,” she asked. “You can’t carry me up there.”

  With a sigh, Mark nodded and set her bare feet down onto the cool stone. He closed the door behind them. There were small windows at intervals in one side of the wall illuminating the way as they climbed the stairs. Mark held her hand and led the way. The stairs spiralled around making Helena realise they were climbing a turret. One of the ones she had seen at the four corners of the Abbey. She grew excited. He was taking her to the top of one of his towers to a secret room. It was just like being in a fairy tale.

  Finally, they reached the top of the stairs that opened out to a small landing in front of an oak door leading to the only room in the tower. Mark took out the keys from his trouser pocket and unlocked the door. He stopped Helena from entering, scooping her up into his arms once more.

  “Close your eyes, little one. I want this to be a surprise for you.”

  Helena obeyed him feeling her excited heart pick up a faster beat. As a little girl, she’d dreamt of having her own tower room in a fairy tale castle and being visited by a handsome Prince.

  Mark walked into the room and closed the door behind him. Turning the key in the lock and sealing them in the room, out of sight, in their own private world together.

  “Helena, you can look now.” There was heightened anticipation in his voice.

  Helena opened her eyes, her beautiful, long, dark lashes fluttering with delight when she rested them on the interior of the tower room. Placed in the middle of the circular shaped room over-looking a fireplace was a child’s four-poster bed carved out of mahogany. The canopy on the top was white with gold crests at each point. Voile curtains were tied around each post embroidered with delicate white butterflies. White, Egyptian cotton sheets covered the bed, over which a blue, silk runner had been placed across the bed at the bottom. The bed was almost a child’s replica of the one in her room downstairs. Sitting in the middle of snowy-white pillows was an exquisite Victorian doll, just like the one she’d wanted to have as a child. She had delicate, aristocratic features, long strawberry hair shaped into ringlets and sky-blue eyes to match her pretty, silk dress of the palest blue, trimmed in white and embroidered with small, white flowers. She was the most beautiful thing Helena had ever seen, and she ached to hold her.